


to be better

by clairedreems



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, and phonophobia, can u believe i posted here first before tumblr, puffys also there, references to mental illness that is never explicitly stated to be what kind, some scenes that may indicate claustrophobia, theres also a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29988291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairedreems/pseuds/clairedreems
Summary: healing takes some time. sometimes it takes forever. and that's okay.
Relationships: Fundy/Dream
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	to be better

* * *

Dream looks up at the roof of the tiny cabin they were in front of. It was in the middle of the forest, in a small island, far away from the rest of the population. There was a little flower garden at the side, with a bench swing, a little stone cobble path leading to the house itself.

Dream kneels down to open the pet carrier and let little Hope out, the cat given to him after his time in prison.

“Do you like it?” Fundy asks, while struggling with the luggage, as he walks beside him. 

He hears what Fundy  _ isn’t _ saying:  _ Can you live here? _

Dream watches Hope try and run after a butterfly. He turns to his estranged husband, and gives him an unconvincing smile.

The truth was that he’s being exiled, no matter how pretty the place is.

* * *

Everyday, before he leaves, Fundy would remind him to take his medicine. Dream would reply with a nod or say some sort of affirmation.

Dream feels like it’s mind numbing at first, but at least here he can go out. He goes to the small garden in the backyard, filled with flowers and vegetation, while Hope follows him around.

This is how he spends his days.

* * *

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, staring outside, the moonlight streaming in from the window. That’s when Fundy enters the room, from the bathroom, fresh from his night shower.

“Dream?” he calls out softly, turning on the light in their bedroom.

Dream turns to him, and he looks, looks at Fundy’s concerned eyes. He wonders what Fundy did to change - foxes are naturally nocturnal. He wonders if it was difficult. He wonders, the most, why Fundy decided to stay. With him. After everything he’s done. After everything he’s become.

Dream lies down, allowing himself to be enveloped by the blanket.

When Fundy lies down next to him, he asks, “Are you drinking your meds?”

“Mm,” is all he replies, burying his head on Fundy’s chest, even as he tries to forget about the unopened medicine bottle in the far back of the cabinet.

* * *

He’s trapped in a box, with no way out. Just him and lava and the ticking of a clock. It’s ticking and ticking and ticking and wouldn’t leave him alone. And he’s trying his hardest but he just wouldn’t wake up, he’s doing everything he can to stop hearing the incessant sound of it. He throws it on the ground, smashes it with his own fist, even throws it into lava. But on and on it goes.  _ Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. _

He wakes up with a jolt.

He’s shaking.  _ Shaking _ . Tries calming himself down.

He’s in the small garden, sleeping on the bench. The moon is out. It’s dark.

Fundy isn’t home yet.

Hope is also nowhere to be found.

* * *

And then came the days of doing  _ nothing _ . Of forgetting when to eat and preferring to just stay inside all cooped up in a cocoon of blankets. Of head infested with disgust and hatred.

“Dream, please.”

Fundy hasn’t left the house for almost a week now, out of concern or out of responsibility - Dream couldn’t tell.

And he wants to fight, he  _ badly  _ wants to fight, for someone to tear into.

Hope is still missing. So he blames Fundy, yells at him, berates him.

Fundy never fights back.

* * *

The nightmares change, but they’re still nightmares. He’s still trapped - he’s always trapped, with nowhere to go to. Endless corridors and millions of doorways, limitless walls.

No way out.

Sometimes, he’d see the telltale signs of Hope’s tail, hears her meow, and he follows.

Sometimes, he’ll see someone’s silhouette, back facing him, but when he touches them, they disappear like dust.

Always alone.

_ Always _ .

There’s a mocking voice inside his head - voice, but each night the voice changes to someone who cares for him.

_ Wasn’t this what you wanted, Dream? _

* * *

As with most people, there’s a breaking point: even for Fundy, who’s always been patient, always been nice. It happened that afternoon.

“You shouldn’t have stayed,” Dream says. His voice is hoarse but he still manages to sound mocking. “Should have just never came back, in the first place. Should have just left your asshole of a crazy husband to rot away instead.”

Fundy does not say a word in reply, just growls and throws the glass bottle he had in hand. It passes by near Dream’s head, and smashes to the wall behind him.

Dream does not even flinch.

Fundy turns away, puts on his jacket and hat, and walks out of the house.

* * *

The next day, Dream opens the front door to Fundy who’s come back with cuts on his clothes, dirty and full of dirt and leaves and smelling like so.

In his arms was little Hope.

There’s a hint of  _ something _ inside Dream. “Where’d you find her?” He asks Fundy as he takes the cat in his own arms.

Fundy’s staring at him, and then: “I still love you.”

He blinks. “That didn’t answer my question.”

“I know.” Fundy turns away, and heads to the bedroom. “But there you go anyway.”

It’s the afternoon, the sun is high in the sky, and Hope is back, but Dream opts to go to his husband’s side and embraces his sleeping form. 

They almost look peacefully happy.

* * *

One day, he’s visited by someone he never expected would. 

“Duckling.”

The woman motions to hug him, but Dream flinches and steps back. He sees a flurry of emotions pass by the woman’s face, but it settles on sad understanding and pity.

Dream frowns. He doesn’t need her pity, but ultimately decides on not voicing it out.

They sit in the dining area and she tells him of how she and his brother have been doing, how the world has been going. And then she asks how Dream is doing and how Fundy has been treating him.

Dream clenches his hand to a fist.

He thinks of lying, of saying Fundy had treated him with nothing but contempt, thinks it’s a mercy because if he does that’d mean they’d send Fundy away from here - from serving exile with him. But the windows are open and he hears Fundy, who was gardening outside, laugh and call after Hope.

He relaxes, looks down at his palm. He can’t do that to Fundy, can he? He can’t do that to himself either.

“Fundy’s nice,” is what he settles on.

“That’s good.” At first, she almost touches his hand to reassure him, hesitates on the last second, and smiles instead. She looks at Dream. “That’s good.”

* * *

His dreams start to change, then. Less nightmares, less feeling trapped.

Hope runs onwards, and then turns to look at Dream, waiting.

She purrs.  _ Come after me _ , she seemed to say.

There are still endless corridors, but Hope would be purring on his legs, and sometimes, Fundy would be there to hold his hand.

Occasionally, his family and friends would be there too.

_ Someday _ , the walls seem to say,  _ someday _ .

* * *

“Do you think I can do it?”  _ Do you think I’ll be okay one day? _

He stares out into the horizon. They’re sitting side by side at the edge of the water. Fundy’s fishing, and he’s merely playing, splashing his feet on it. He can see in his peripheral view that Fundy turns to him. He knows Fundy's been in such a journey too, when he left not long after the war.

There’s a moment of silence, before Fundy replies.

“I think you can.”

Dream smiles.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was originally written as an outlet for some things i have been experiencing lately. originally it was gonna be a rather... flat fic. like, a mind numbing boring one, occasionally sprinkled with nightmares; but someone on tumblr sent me a song that made me feel like. "hey maybe this fic needs some sort of happy ending" (and from there it went hey, maybe i deserve happiness too).
> 
> anyway yea this is a personal fic lmao


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